Train of Conciousness

So, in case you hadn't noticed, my last post makes no sense.

That's because I used the wrong word.

The whole time.

Whenever I said yawn, it's actually supposed to be snore... Whatever. You knew that, right? I mean they're totally the same thing. Haha. Yeah...

Maybe I was just so excited about the fact that I got a music player on my page that I wasn't really thinking clearly.

Yeah, that must have been it.

But really. My music player is nifty. Now you know just a little bit more about me, because you get to listen to all of my favorite songs while you read. Lovely, no?

Anyway. Not the point.

We're reading The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner in my english class right now. It's really confusing, and kind of boring merely because half the time you have no idea what's going on because it follows the thought process of a thirty-three year old mentally deficient man.

Who has absolutely no concept of time.

Italics may indicate a time change. Then again, they may not.

And I'm not talking hours or days here. I'm talking years. Decades, even.

And as if that wasn't confusing enough, then they throw in two characters named Quentin. One is a boy. The other is a baby girl.

But they don't specify.

And when you have no clue what is happening, and whether you're in 1924 or 1896 or 1910, it's really confusing.

You read half of the page thinking that Benjy is talking about his brother, and then your whole sense of reality is shattered when you realize that really, he's talking about his sister's child.

Moral of this story: People are random. Thought processes suck. And Quentin is a hermaphrodite.